365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

247. In the Clouds

247. In the Clouds: Go cloud watching for the day and write about what you imagine in the clouds.

"A baby!" "A baby!" the people whispered, turning to each other and crowded outside of the gilted doors. Their wispy clothes breathed in the wind, and their long hair waved gently in the breeze. Both the men and the women were tall and slender, with long, straight hair and faces full of graceful lines. Though they looked normal except for their exceptional beauty, as they rustled expectantly, their wings unfurled.

Wings! They were wide and snowy white. Each long feather was perfectly arranged, as if the wings weren't quite real. Indeed, they weren't real to us, for they weren't of this world. The tips of each wing shivered in the noiseless wind that blew gently through.

"A baby!" was heard in shushed voices until they all suddenly fell silent. With a deep echo, like a gong being struck, the golden double doors were slowly shoved open. The people clutched each other, their faces turned eagerly to their king, who stood in the doorway.

He was magnificent to look at, being yet fairer than those in the crowd below. His skin seemed to glow with some inner light, and his expression was as infallibly gentle as the nation he commanded. His gaze ran over his people like a soft caress, and when he spoke, his voice came out even and deep. "It is a girl," he announced. It was so silent he didn't even have to raise his voice to be heard.

"A girl!" "A girl!" the winged people repeated, with smiles that snowed their even, white teeth and eyes that glistened with happy, unshed tears. For they were saved.

The king smiled benevolently down at them. He too was grateful for the birth of his child, and not just for fatherly love. Her birth meant the preservation of his lovely, peaceful kingdom.

As he stood, framed by the golden doors and basking in his contentment, a man appeared at his elbow.

Although this man was imperially slim, tall, and possessed the unfurled wings of his fellows, there was a hardness in his face not present elsewhere. He was a defender of the happy people, and consequently was not as quick to smile.

"Sir," said the new arrival quietly. His voice was gravelly. "There is a complication."

The king looked at the man, alarmed. "Yes?"

The people, below, could not hear the small voices of the king and his underling, so quiet were they, but they saw the distress on his face.

The man leaned forward and whispered, "Your daughter does not have wings."

The king was very still. The wind he commanded blew faster and harder, scattering the cloud edges and smoothing them out.

He knew what this meant. It meant he and his people were not saved after all. They were, in fact, doomed.

The king swept one last, distraught look at the innocent faces staring with unanimous concern up at him, and then he retreated back inside. The golden doors were shut with a solid thud, and were not opened again for many and many years.